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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24906364">Sickchester Vol. 5</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137'>Pineprin137</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sickchester: The Complete Collection [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Injury, Coughing, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Guilt, Happy Ending, Heartache, Hunters &amp; Hunting, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Influenza, M/M, Medical Procedures, Motion Sickness, Poltergeists, Road Trips, S'mores, Sick Dean Winchester, Sick Jack Kline, Sick Mary Winchester, Sickfic, Stomach Ache, Vomiting, carsickness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:08:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,323</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24906364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel &amp; Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Jack Kline &amp; Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sickchester: The Complete Collection [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Backseat Driver</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Okay, nice and easy, Jack. Take your time-- We’re not in a hurry.” Sam murmured comfortingly as the Impala rounded another bend in the road. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were on their way to a case in Boulder, Colorado and Jack had asked if he could drive for a while. Sam and Cas ganged up on Dean, pestering him until he finally gave in to the kid’s request. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’re you doin’ back there?” Sam asked without taking his eyes off of their novice driver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean, who had been relegated to the backseat- because </span>
  <em>
    <span>apparently</span>
  </em>
  <span> his teaching style was a little harsh, according to Sam- narrowed his eyes, scowled. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Peachy</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he snarled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>See, Dean had been with Jack the first time the kid drove. He knew that while Jack may still be learning, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a pretty damn fast learner. </span>
  <em>
    <span>However</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’d been riding shotgun that day, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> stuck in the backseat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The car lurched sickeningly when Jack overcorrected after drifting into the other lane. Dean’s stomach sloshed right along with his Baby, feeling every bump as she got her wheels back on the pavement. Dean thanked anyone who was listening that the kid hadn’t done that earlier when there </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>no shoulder… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean, are you alright? You look pale…” Cas whispered, leaning down to get a better look at Dean’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Cas. Just not used to riding in the back.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean couldn’t remember exactly when the last time he’d ridden in the backseat was, well apart from taking advantage of the long bench after an injury. Thinking back, he realized it must’ve been...back when Dad drove the Impala, with Mom and Sammy… but did time travel count? Literally, they’d been back in ‘seventy-eight, but for him and Sam, that was only- what- </span>
  <em>
    <span>ten</span>
  </em>
  <span> years ago? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His head throbbed inside his skull. Okay, not a great idea to try to figure out the ins and outs of the space-time continuum while stuck in the back of a moving vehicle…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Swallowing thickly against his rising gorge, Dean covertly placed one hand over his roiling gut. Lifting his head, he tried to find the horizon through the windshield, but the mountains blocked it from view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas looked over at him when he groaned. “Dean, you do not look well. Are you ill?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean pressed the back of his hand to his lips, waiting until his nausea died down enough that he could speak. “No…’m just--” he gulped loudly, “--feelin’ a little carsick…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Should I tell Sam?” Cas asked, furrowing his brow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cas, no-- I can handle it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m gonna shut my eyes-- see if a nap helps.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cas didn’t seem completely convinced but he trusted Dean so he refrained from telling Sam about Dean’s non-illness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean leaned back against the familiar vinyl, let it cushion his body as he shut his eyes against the trees rushing past on their left and the sharp drop to their right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He woke a while later to the sound of his brother’s voice, coaching Jack, “Okay, now, Jack, up ahead, the road is going to start winding down the mountain which means we’ll be on a decline. The Impala will automatically speed up, thanks to gravity, so you won’t need to push down on the pedal as hard…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No sooner had Sam spoken then the road curved sharply to the right and their descent began. Dean’s stomach jumped into his throat when Jack pressed a little too hard on the brakes. Glancing over, Dean saw Cas gripping the door handle to avoid getting tossed into him. Yeah, they would need to work on Jack’s braking skills… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam’s focus was completely on getting them to the bottom of the mountain in one piece. “Easy...there you go, just let her do the work… there you go--better… Okay, watch the curve up here… Jack, watch the side… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jack!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Sam leaned over, yanking on the wheel to keep the Impala’s hood from scraping into the side of the mountain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s palms grew sweaty while his heart raced wildly. Worrying about his sweet girl smashing into an unyielding rock face, his nausea worsened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The downward momentum of the car was proving to be too difficult for Jack to control so Sam also had one hand on the steering wheel. The positioning was awkward which made for rather jerky movements and several close calls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the passenger side of the car came about two inches from the edge, Dean’s vision blurred. Warm saliva rushed over his tongue.  “Cas--” he said just before he gagged, “--hold onto my belt.” He shoved his face into his shoulder, quickly rolling the window down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hunter’s request caught Castiel off guard, but then, he saw something that resembled coffee leak out around the hand Dean had pressed to his lips. He didn’t wait for Cas to respond before leaning out of the window to vomit. Cas lunged across the seat to grab onto the back of his belt, worried he may fall out.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silently promising his Baby he would give her a thorough rub down once they made it to the motel in Boulder, Dean rested his head against the door when the steep drop off gave him intense vertigo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Predictably, the sudden sound of retching coming from the backseat surprised their novice driver. Jack looked over his shoulder. “Dean?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jack! Eyes on the road!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sam yelled, panic lacing his voice when the Impala swerved dangerously. “You can’t worry about Dean right now, Jack-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to focus on the road.” Still worried about his sick dad, but also a little scared of what Sam might do if he disobeyed, Jack quickly turned back to the front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sam was sure the Nephilim's focus was back on their route and no longer on Dean, he turned to Cas. “You got him?” he asked, glancing at his brother.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel nodded, his firm grip on Dean’s leather belt the only thing keeping him from falling out the window. “Yes, I’ve got him.”   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam glanced into his side mirror just in time to see a disgusting stream of blackish vomit flow out of Dean’s mouth. The revolting scene prompted him to say, “Hang in there, Dean… We’re almost to the bottom.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Groaning, Dean ducked his head back inside, but not before he saw the state of his Baby. She was streaked with greasy sludge and sticky strings of bile. </span>
</p><p>Dean grimaced. <em><span>I’m so sorry, Baby. </span></em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Marshmallows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jack overdoes it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This lovely idea popped into my head after rewatching Season 15 (Part 1?) on Netflix. It features a canon-divergent alternate *happy* ending for the boys and Jack.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey, slow down, kid. I promise you they aren’t going to go anywhere,” Dean chuckled, watching Jack shove another s’ more into his face.  Their young, </span>
  <em>
    <span>attractive</span>
  </em>
  <span> blonde neighbor, Makenna joined in while helping her young son, Alec smush a toasted marshmallow between two squares of graham crackers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leaning back in his lawn chair and draping his arm over the back of Kenna’s, Dean shared a smile with Sam over the firepit. Sam’s girlfriend, Ellie, was curled up beside him, giggling quietly as they whispered back and forth. They were still in the honeymoon stage of their relationship. It was adorable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three years since the big showdown and yet, here they were-- sitting around a fire, two beautiful women at their sides, their kid overdoing it on sugary snacks. It was so wonderfully </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span>... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chuck had thrown a major wrench into the works three years ago with his multi-verse-spanning temper tantrum, but Team Free Will had prevailed. They’d somehow managed to talk Chuck out of ending it all. There were still some nights that Dean woke in a cold sweat, scared to death that it had all been a dream. But then, Kenna would wake up and ask him what was wrong and he would know that it was real. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After Chuck surrendered to two pissed-off hunters, a damaged angel, and an all-powerful Nephilim, there was a period when Dean and Sam had been lost. Sure, they hunted for a while- killed the bad guys, rescued the damsels- but there were more challenges now that G-O-D, </span>
  <em>
    <span>God,</span>
  </em>
  <span> was out of the picture. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For one, the brothers were no longer immune to death. They bled more, their injuries hurt worse, and the resulting scars didn’t fade like they used to. Sam and Dean Winchester were just regular run-of-the-mill, flannel-loving, muscle-car-driving, guys-- with a lifetime’s worth of PTSD-fueled nightmares, extreme codependency issues, and so much baggage it would take an eternity to go through it all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And all of that? Well, that took a helluva lot of adjustment... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a year, they bounced between the bunker and nameless small towns, doing their best to clean up the world’s biggest mess, but eventually, ‘fighting the good fight’ started to lose its appeal-- Because Chuck’s abrupt disappearance affected Heaven and Hell just as much as it did Earth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Heaven floundered, unsure what to do now that they were officially Father-less. So, the angels set their minds on keeping the soul machine running-- it was Chuck’s only parting gift before he left for good-- after a stern talking-to by Jack, of course. The machine is now what keeps the pearly gates open for business. Dean isn’t exactly sure how it works, but he knows it has something to do with recycling the power of the souls already chilling in Heaven in order to keep the lights on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hell, on the other hand, </span>
  <em>
    <span>flourished </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the first few months Post-Chuck. The demons still on Earth went on a rampage, effectively keeping the hunters busy. But things were </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span>... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without the assistance of divine intervention, humans were a lot easier to corrupt-- the saddest of the bunch practically throwing themselves at any demon who was dumb enough to step out of the shadows. There was no thrill, no excitement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, without much challenge up top, even the most maniacal of Hell’s inhabitants soon lost interest in Earth’s inhabitants. They began opting to stay downstairs-- where they could torment and torture to their little black hearts’ content. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the unofficial peacekeeper- along with Cas, Billie, and Rowena- Jack spent much of his free time acting as a liaison between Hell and Heaven. Because while Cas and Rowena dealt with more of the day-to-day tasks in their respective corners, Billie was teaching Jack the ins and outs of the multiverse. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As for the Winchesters, any young hunter who asked about the legend of Sam and Dean would get one answer: they were retired-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>for good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one blamed them, of course. Even those that had never met the brothers personally had heard the stories of how they saved the world multiple times and, along with their angelic best-friend and adopted Nephilim, went toe-to-toe with God, himself... and </span>
  <em>
    <span>won.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three years later, Dean works as the head mechanic in a small garage down the street from the house he and Sam split the downpayment on, in a town no one from their past would ever stumble into accidentally. Instead of beheading vampires and avoiding hexes, the brothers spend their free time barbecuing with their neighbors, attending their kid’s track meets, and getting cozy with their girlfriends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Dean isn’t covered in grease, happily lost beneath the hood of a Chevy that has seen better days or helping change the tires on the sweet Thunderbird Mrs. Malcolm, from two doors down, drives, the former-hunter rides around town in his beloved Impala with the single mother from next door riding shotgun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unlike his brother, it took a while for Sam to get comfortable in their new hometown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept to himself, only venturing out with Dean to go to a bar or support Jack from the sidelines-- their Nephilim made the varsity line up last year! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sam finally got his job at the library- thanks to Kenna and her son, who </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved </span>
  </em>
  <span>storytime- the retired hunter fell into an easy routine. But then, his easy days of reading novels, and helping the older folks out with the tricky computers, was disrupted by a feisty brunette. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ellie owned the coffee shop across the street so she frequently stopped in when things were slow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as Sam met her, he knew there was no point in trying to resist. Ellie may be a small woman, but she could hold her own against the six-foot-five librarian without breaking a sweat. Yet, just as easily, Ellie could melt him with one smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nowadays, if Ellie wasn’t at the coffee shop, she could frequently be found in the Winchesters’ living room, watching cheesy horror movies with Sam or bickering with Dean while he fixed dinner for whoever was gracing their dining table that night.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonight, they’d chosen to meet up in Kenna’s backyard so they could make use of the old fire pit. Everyone was in attendance aside from Cas, who had an important meeting to attend with Rowena. Dean had provided the southwest-style burgers, chips, and corn dip, Kenna set up the chairs around the firepit and brought marshmallows to toast, and Ellie had brought a batch of triple chocolate brownie bars, as well as two bags of protein bars for Jack and Sam. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jack, how many of those have you had...?” Sam asked. His concern that the Nephilim may be pushing his sugary limit a bit too far drew his attention away from Ellie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Five-” Jack said, grinning. His teeth were covered in melted chocolate and sticky marshmallow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled, thinking Jack looked more like a four-year-old at that moment than the actual toddler sitting on Kenna’s lap did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“--I think?” The young man continued before he paused to skewer two more marshmallows onto his stick.  “They’re amazing!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pursing his lips, Dean nodded. He hoped the kid’s system could handle the sudden influx of sugar... He grimaced when Jack shoved a whole s’ more into his mouth at once, his belly churning sympathetically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean! Dean!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, buddy?” Dean smiled down at Alec. The young boy had Makenna’s striking blue eyes and sandy-blonde hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wanna bite?” Alec asked, holding up the messy treat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s full stomach gave a groan-- It wasn’t interested in making room for anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m good,” Dean admitted, “but you go ahead.” He tried to soften the rejection by reaching out to ruffle the boy’s hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But-But I made it special...</span>
  <em>
    <span>for you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Alec’s puppy dog eyes gave even Sam’s a run for their money… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Dean's aforementioned brother snickered from his spot beside Ellie on the other side of the roaring fire, Dean gave Sam an unamused shake of his head. He turned back to Alec. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “For me, huh?” he asked, swallowing nervously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alec nodded, stretching so the sticky snack was even closer to Dean’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realizing he’d rather suffer a bellyache later rather than deny the little boy next to him, Dean gave in. Taking a slow breath, he leaned forward to take a big bite of the s' more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to open his mouth thanks to the gooey mess inside, Dean gave Alec a big thumbs up. When the kid looked away, Dean hastily grabbed his beer bottle from the grass and washed the sugary sweet glob down his gullet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You too, mama!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenna’s eyes lit up when Alec tugged at the front of her knotted shirt with a sticky hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too? Oh, thank you, baby! That’s so nice!” Kenna cooed before ducking her head to take a bite. Dean watched, mesmerized by how wonderful Kenna was at being a mother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean and Sam had been ‘dads’ for almost five years now, but there were still times that they didn’t know what to say to Jack or how to handle the kinds of situations that arose while trying to raise a half-human, half-archangel child in a man’s body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brothers- much like Jack- were still learning how to do the whole normal family thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Kenna… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been newly pregnant with Alec when her fiance was killed by a drunk driver three days before their six-year anniversary. She’d been on her own from the beginning and yet, she always knew how to react when Alec threw a fit or refused to do something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean guessed it must be a maternal thing-- knowing when to hug instead of scold, how many kisses were acceptable before bed, which brave stuffed animal would survive the car ride to go camping with Dean.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like now, for instance. Dean and Sam both </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jack was pushing it, but they didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>to tell him he should stop. Their kid looked enraptured by the decadent camping staple in his hand, but they knew his stomach would eventually revolt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack may only be barely five and a half years old, he looked like a teenager. A teenager that appreciated the Winchesters’ guidance, but still wanted to do his own thing... be his own person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jack?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The worry evident in Sam’s voice brought Dean back to the present. He looked up in time to see Jack set down his skewer, which still had a row of marshmallows ready to toast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kid? You alright?” Dean asked, leaning forward in his chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenna saw the change in both Sam and Dean’s posture when Jack grew silent. Her mothering instincts taking over, she turned to Sam’s new girlfriend. “Ellie, do you think you could come to give me a hand with this little monster?” she asked,  hugging Alec against her legs after she stood up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean met her eyes, nodding to her before he casually walked over to Jack.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, sure…” Ellie replied, a little confused as to why the young mother was asking for her help. She barely knew the boy... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ellie glanced up at Sam, shrugged,  “I’ll see you inside?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good. We’ll be in soon.” Sam pulled her up to stand beside him, kissed her before he joined his brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean glanced over his shoulder before facing Jack. “Okay, the girls are gone. How bad is it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack grimaced. His stomach felt awful… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you feel sick?” Sam asked, crouching down on Jack’s other side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A little…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jack admitted, resting one hand on his bloated belly. Maybe he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> overdone it… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. Dean huffed quietly. His little brother had always had a tendency to get sick whenever someone else did.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Dean placed his hand on Jack’s knee. “Think you can stand up for me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Determined, Jack nodded. He winced as he stood, burped softly when he had straightened up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, kiddo, why don’t we go for a little walk around the yard? It might help to settle things down.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Jack walked beside Dean, one of the man’s arms around his shoulders, providing support both emotionally and physically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jack suddenly burped, he was glad it was dark so his dad couldn’t see the blush coloring his cheeks. He ducked his head, but Dean gently squeezed his shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s okay if you need to let it out, Jack. Please don’t hold back on my account. Besides, it might make you feel better.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still slightly embarrassed, but starting to feel worse, Jack followed Dean’s advice, burping loudly as they walked toward the back of Makenna’s backyard. He kind of wished his other dad was there too, but Sam had remained by the fire, cleaning up the group’s trash and putting the fire out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jack,” Dean said, quietly, noticing the sudden stiffness in the kid’s posture. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean, I--” Jack swallowed before turning to face him. “I don’t feel well…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled sadly, “I know you don’t.” He hugged Jack close, kissed the top of his head. “You wanna go inside for this? Or stay out here?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack’s voice shook with unshed tears, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I really don’t wanna throw up...” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean sighed. This was the part that sucked about being a parent. When it was inevitable that the kid was going to get sick and there was nothing Dean could do to prevent it. At this point, Pepto would only serve as a catalyst and sleep would be impossible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>C-Can we go inside?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walked back into the house, Dean following Jack down the hall towards the guest bathroom. He got the kid settled on the pink fluffy bath mat then stepped outside to speak with Kenna and Sam. Ellie was in Alec’s room, reading him a bedtime story. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is he okay?” Kenna asked, wrapping her arms around Dean’s waist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rested his chin on her head but looked straight at his brother when he said, “No. He’s feeling pretty bad. We walked around for a bit, but he started feeling sick so we came back in.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam’s face fell. He felt so useless whenever Jack was sick to his stomach. Colds, fevers, runny noses, and coughs- hell, even the <em>chicken pox-</em> Sam could handle-- but when it came to puke, Dean or Cas had to step in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>D-Dean…?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean leaned around Kenna so he could twist the doorknob. When she loosened her grip, he poked his head through the gap. “Yeah?” he said, answering the sick boy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack rocked back and forth, one arm wrapped around his stomach and a hand pressed tightly to his mouth. “C-Can you sit with me…?” he gulped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded. “Sure, kiddo. I’ll be right in...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned back to the woman in his arms. “Sorry, sweetheart, looks like I’m going to have to take a rain check.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You gonna stay here tonight?” Kenna asked, looping her arms around his neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam, who had been leaning in the doorway of Alec’s room listening to Ellie’s voice, suddenly straightened. His eyes were wide as he waited for Dean’s answer.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One look at his brother’s petrified expression made Dean’s decision easy-- because as much as he would love to choose a night with Kenna over a night spent rushing back and forth to the bathroom with a sick kid, Dean would never knowingly leave Sammy high and dry. “Nah,” Dean said, giving Kenna a small smile, “I should probably head back with Jack once he’s done.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked disappointed, but as a mother, she understood. “Okay, let me know if you need anything. I hope he starts feeling better.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow.” They shared a brief kiss before Dean disappeared into the bathroom to help Jack. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With two of her four guests sorted, Kenna headed down the hall to Alec’s room, intending to trade places with Sam’s girlfriend so the couple could head out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ellie joined Sam in the hallway. She reached for him but froze when Jack retched loudly behind the closed bathroom door. Pivoting, she hurried down the hall to grab her purse and jacket from the living room. Sam closed his eyes while he waited for her by the front door.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Alright...you’re okay... Just get it up, kiddo-- you’ll feel better... Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe-- I’m right here.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like it had since he was a kid, Dean’s voice soothed Sam enough that he was able to keep his own stomach under control as he ushered Ellie outside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How many times had Dean done the same thing for Sam? Coaxed him through the horrors of the stomach flu or helped him survive a grief-induced hangover? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam? You ready?” Ellie asked, laying her hand on his arm. They were standing in the yard between his and Dean’s house and Kenna’s. Sam appeared lost in thought, but she still worried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d only been together for a few months, but Ellie already knew about Sam’s aversion to vomit thanks to a sudden, unexpected bout of motion sickness while watching </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaws</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She’d been embarrassed when she had to sprint to the bathroom during the movie, but when she came out a little bit later, she’d discovered Sam hunched over the kitchen sink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ellie reached up to cup his jaw. “Sam?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Oh--Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Let’s go.”  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Poltergeist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dean gets chucked out of a window. Sam tries his hand at being a field medic.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Ow! Watch it, would ya?” Dean yelped, raising his hand off of Sam’s shoulder to smack the back of his brother’s head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ow-- Dean! What the hell?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean scowled. “I’d like to make it down the stairs in one piece if you don’t mind.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam rolled his eyes, huffed. “Do you want my help or not?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Muttering under his breath, Dean resumed their earlier position so Sam could take most of his weight while he limped down the iron staircase. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>A little care wouldn’t kill ya…” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They made it to the bottom. Sam helped Dean over to the table, pulled out one of the chairs. “How is it?” he asked, crouching down to take a look at the bandage wrapped around Dean’s right leg. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The spirit they’d been hunting had tossed Dean out the front window, and while he’d been lucky enough to land in the flower bed, he also managed to fall on one of the skinny metal poles being used as a makeshift trellis for the wisteria vines. The small support was only about a foot tall, but it had easily punctured Dean’s calf. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam had been salting the bones when he heard his brother’s cry of pain. It had only taken three minutes for him to drench the old grave in kerosene and light it up, but by the time he got to Dean, his brother’s face had been sheet-white-- his teeth gritted against the pain of having a metal object jabbed about two inches deep into his calf muscle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not wanting Dean to bleed out in some old lady’s half-dead flower bed, Sam had dug up the pole and left it in Dean’s leg until they made it back to the safety of the Impala. Dean had collapsed on the backseat while Sam grabbed the duffle with their medical supplies and deposited it on the ground beside him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When it came time to remove the rod, Dean had gripped the back of the seat with one hand and the Impala’s sturdy door frame in his other. Then, he bit down hard on the roll of gauze Sam shoved into his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had taken a deep breath, wrapped his hand around the metal pole. He had Dean’s foot clamped down in his armpit-- he hoped it would be enough to keep Dean from jerking around too much. His free hand had hovered near the wound, ready with surgical-grade dressing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Dean, on three,” Sam said, locking eyes with his brother. Dean already looked to be on the verge of passing out, which would probably be best because this was going to hurt like a bitch... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One… Two... ” Sam pulled as hard as he could on the pole. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean screamed behind his makeshift gag, tears streaming down his face. The bloody bar rang loudly when it hit the asphalt, but Sam didn’t hear it. He’d been in full field-medic mode as he worked to stop the bleeding and dress the wound. He’d planned to stitch it up once they were back at the motel, so he was just trying to staunch the flow of blood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Sam had the worst of the bleeding under control and the fresh wound secured with a clean dressing, Dean had been out cold. Since it wasn’t like Dean to pass out from a little blood loss, Sam’s main worry had been shock. It wasn’t until they got back to the motel that he’d realized a piece of the aged metal rod had splintered off inside of Dean’s leg. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam had discovered it while carefully cleaning the wound so he could stitch it up. As soon as his fingers brushed it, Dean had woken up.  His eyes had barely been open when Sam grabbed it with a pair of tweezers, trying to extract the tiny sliver of metal embedded deep in his muscle. White-knuckling the thin sheet on his bed as Sam poked and prodded, trying to figure out the best angle to pull it out, Dean had barely managed to turn his face toward the edge of the bed before he puked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam had honestly been shocked no one came to kick them out after that-- even muffled into a pillow, his brother’s agony would’ve been easily heard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After he’d tied the last stitch off, Sam had quickly gotten their things together and cleaned up as best he could before helping Dean into the backseat of the Impala. Sam didn’t bother stopping until they were in the Men of Letters’ garage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean, hey--” Sam said, snapping his fingers to get Dean’s attention, “How bad is it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll live…” Dean replied shakily, wincing when Sam lifted his leg onto the other chair. However, he sighed once the pressure was off his wound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam walked back over to the stairs to grab their gear. He put it on the table so no one would trip over it. “Where do you want to go?” he asked, worried Dean may fall asleep where he was if Sam waited too much longer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s bed would probably be the most comfortable, but the armchair in the library would only require a short trip instead of long hallways and two sets of steps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean yawned. “My room.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, give me a sec to drop our stuff off, and then, I’ll help you.” Grabbing the handles of his and Dean’s duffle bags, Sam slung them over his shoulder. At the steps to the hallway, Sam paused, turning back to give his brother a hard look. “I mean it, Dean. Don’t move.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too exhausted to come up with a witty comeback, Dean settled for flipping him off. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Mary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mama Winchester feels the feels...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sniffling miserably, Mary grabbed another tissue from the box beside the bed. The boys left three days ago to check out a supposed haunting in Winfield and had yet to return, though Dean had texted her each night, checking in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thought it was sweet that her not-so-little boy worried about her being alone in the bunker, but honestly, Dean needn’t have bothered this time-- She had barely left her room since coming down with the flu a day after they left. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mary had forgotten what it was like to be sick--up in Heaven, there was no illness-- and she found that she didn’t really miss it, like--</span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because although the bunker where her boys lived was </span>
  <em>
    <span>massive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Mary had no idea where to look for anything. Heck, she’d felt pretty lucky to happen upon a lonely box of tissues in the back of the linen closet. But after searching for the last two days, she still had yet to unearth a bottle of cough syrup or find any fever-reducer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been attempting to check out the bathrooms she actually knew the locations of earlier today, but she'd had to stop when she began feeling light-headed. She only made it through two.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Coughing so hard her chest ached, Mary bundled further under the covers, wishing John was there to take care of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d also been so sweet when she fell ill, taking care of Dean while making her soup or heating up a hot water bottle to soothe her aches and pains. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was one of the things she just couldn’t understand-- her boys said that John was cold and clinical, but Mary </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> he could be soft and caring when needed. He’d taken such good care of her... why didn’t he do the same for their boys? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blowing her nose as delicately as possible to avoid making it sore, she deposited the dirty tissue into the trash can she’d moved beside her bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When it came to talking about John, Dean didn’t say much other than </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He did his best...”</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but Sam? Sam had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> to say about John, most of which wasn’t positive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d told her about the time Dean had ended up in the hospital after making himself sick trying to look after Sam, the nights they spent huddled together for warmth when they got snowed in, tummy bugs that weren’t important enough to keep John from leaving on a hunt... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mary knew in her heart that John had done the best he could, consumed by grief and a laser-focused need for vengeance, but she hated that Sam and Dean never really met the man she’d fallen in love with-- the man who helped her realize there was more to life than the family business. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And lying alone in the secret underground shelter her boys called home, feeling like utter crap, Mary wished more than anything that she could be wrapped up in his arms once again. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Sick Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hearing a deep raspy cough, Lisa paused just inside the door, one hand extended to place her car keys on the hook. She waited, listening closely but didn’t hear anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning into the hallway, she called out. “Dean? 'You home?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When there was no answer, she figured she had time to put the groceries away before she figured out what was going on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She placed the milk on the shelf in the refrigerator before tucking carrots and cucumbers into the crisper. Dean shouldn’t be home yet-- he’d been working at the job site until at least five all this week-- but now that she thought about it, Lisa recalled that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> seen his pickup in the driveway when she pulled in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Protein bars and bags of corn chips joined the variety of cans in the cupboard before she arranged the bunch of bananas and rosy apples she’d picked out in the fruit bowl on the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he’d been a little tired the last few days?</span>
  </em>
  <span> But since Dean had been working overtime, Lisa hadn’t paid it much attention. And come to think of it-- he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> tossed and turned more than usual last night... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finished with the groceries, Lisa warily walked into the living room-- she never knew what she would find. He could be in the midst of a nightmare, gasping out his brother’s name while he writhed painfully, </span>
  <em>
    <span>or </span>
  </em>
  <span>he could just be sitting there-- staring off into the distance while he remembered one of his ‘No Lisa Allowed’ memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Dean, honey?” Lisa said, rounding the corner. Seeing the state of her live-in boyfriend, she gasped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean was sequestered on the couch, asleep. The trash can by his head was overflowing with crumpled tissues, there were half-empty glasses of water, and what Lisa guessed was probably electrolyte-heavy sports drink on the table, and the TV was still on though the sound had been muted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked awful-- cheeks rosy with fever and skin slick with sweat. His arms were crossed over his chest as he slept, snoring through the congestion rattling in his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lisa carefully picked her way through the mess to take a closer look at the mostly-empty bottle of cough syrup and packet of flu meds on the end table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After clearing a spot on the coffee table, she carefully sat. She laid the back of her hand across his forehead, wincing when she felt how hot he was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean? Honey…” Lisa said, softly stroking his arm. She hated to wake him, but she needed to know how bad things were before Ben got home. Dean wouldn’t allow himself to be weak around Ben so he would try to push through or hide out in the bedroom until he felt well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lis?” Dean mumbled, peeling one eye open. “What’re you doing home…?” He tried to lift up onto his elbows and started coughing. Groaning, he laid back down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not liking the sudden paleness of his face, Lisa cupped his cheek. “Are you alright?” she asked quietly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Feeling too much like crap to worry about keeping up his bravado, Dean shook his head. “No.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly. Pushing Lisa out of the way, Dean scrambled for the trash can as he coughed up the junk in his throat. Like it had out on the job site, the coughing fit triggered his gag reflex. He threw up harshly, Lisa’s hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him from falling off of the couch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he was finished, Lisa handed him a tissue. Grateful, Dean blew his nose before spitting out another wad of phlegm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It sounds like you have a chest cold...” Lisa murmured, helping him get re-situated. She fluffed the pillow behind his head and shook out the blanket from the back of the couch to lay over him. “... or maybe bronchitis.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She carded her fingers through his hair, reveling in how long it was. Dean hadn’t had a haircut since he moved in- other than a quick trim by Lisa’s friend Margie- so it was nice and thick, much softer than Lisa was used to.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A lot of things had changed, really. He was wearing a pair of grey track pants and a white tee-shirt for crying out loud! Though he was wearing socks, his steel-toed work boots were nowhere to be seen-- his hunting boots had been shoved into the back of Lisa’s closet several months ago. Other than the bottle of whiskey he kept hidden in the garage--safe from Ben and his mischievous new friends-- Dean hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since the disaster at Thanksgiving and he even slept soundly most nights now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lisa smiled when she realized he’d fallen back asleep, his mouth parted so he could bypass his stuffed nose to breathe, his head turned towards her, and one of his hands brushing the bottom of her yoga pants. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Careful not to disturb the sleeping man, Lisa carefully cleared away the trash from the coffee table and changed out the trash bag. She placed a fresh glass of water within his reach for when he woke up as well as another box of tissues and an almost empty bag of cough drops she found in the medicine cabinet in her bathroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After replying to a text from Ben asking if he could go to his friend’s house after school-- she replied yes after warning him that Dean wasn’t feeling well--, Lisa pulled out her new yoga mat. She was fairly content to break it in while keeping an eye on her sick, sleeping boyfriend.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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